


Pretending I Don't Feel Misplaced

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same [14]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Eventual Fluff, M/M, POV Second Person, Petplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-02-24 13:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13214892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: You pretend to be a mindless animal in your spare time, so what? It's not like it's a big deal.(Spoiler: It's a big deal.)





	1. a secret i've kept locked away, no one can ever see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Perry the Platypus discovers a secret (and promptly pretends otherwise).

You weren't expecting him to catch you.

The door was locked and the blinds were drawn and he'd already thwarted you earlier so you'd thought you were _safe_. This... It's supposed to be private, just for you, something to make the days a little more bearable when even his company isn't enough. A secret for you and you alone.

Even the O.W.C.A. doesn't know, despite how thoroughly they'd bugged your apartment. You'd been careful to keep everything locked away out of sight.

So when _he_ walks in, unexpected - and by that you really do mean unexpected - you panic. Snatch the headband off your head and hide it behind your back like you're _ashamed_ of it. And you are, aren't you? Just like everything else you've ever loved, if you hide it - if you're _ashamed_ of loving it - then maybe you'll be allowed to keep it. Not that it ever works, but you can't help but try anyway.

Tears well up in your eyes and you blink them away, determined not to cry in front of your nemesis. He's seen you cry before - he's _made_ you cry before - but not like this.

Your voice, when you speak, is steadier than you'd hoped. "It's not movie night, Perry the Platypus, why are you here?" You can't meet his eyes, terrified to see what you're sure will be _disgust_ , just like everyone else who's ever discovered your little secret. You'd stopped telling them after a while.

He doesn't answer the question, instead pointing at the fabric collar not quite concealed by your shirt. Exactly where you didn't want him to look, but it's not like you could _hide_ it, not with it sitting out in plain sight.

It's a cheap collar, thin and black and already fraying at the edges even though you've only had it a month, and you feel it press against your throat as you swallow.

You are, quite frankly, terrified.

"Come on, this is _not_ the most embarrassing thing you've seen me wear," you say, hoping he'll drop the subject. The last thing you want right now is to have to justify what you do in your spare time. "Remember that time with the socky-shocky-suity? Now _that_ was awkward to explain. Not to you, you got the whole _monologue_ , but the lady whose car we landed on? Yeesh. _So_ many questions. 'Who are you? Where did you come from? What are you doing with that duck?' Can you believe she'd never heard of a platypus?"

He's unconvinced. You're not even looking, you _can't_ , but you can feel the weight of his judgement anyway. And it _hurts_. More than you'd thought it would.

What are you supposed to do now? You can't just let him _leave_ , not when he'd report back to OWCA and make you even more of a laughingstock than you already are. Explaining it... that's a backstory you're not ready to tell.

You take a deep breath, then sigh. "I locked the door for a _reason_ , Perry the Platypus. Did you even think of that? You could have at least _knocked_."

In the silence that follows, you hear the sound of him shuffling his feet, claws clicking on the wooden floor, and you look up at him. Despite your fears, he looks more _awkward_ than anything, sheepish like _he_ was caught doing something he shouldn't.

Something tells you he wants to be here just as much as you do, by which you mean not at all.

"Let's pretend this never happened, huh?" you say, and he gives you a thumbs-up, obvious relief on his face. No objections, no nothing. Just agreement, like he wants to avoid the subject. You're okay with that, you don't want to talk about it either, you want the whole thing to go away.

When he leaves it's a weight off your chest and that, you hope, is the end of that.

* * *

The next time he shows up outside your usual thwartings, he knocks.

It's a surprise, you have to scramble to get the collar off and back away in its hiding place before answering the door, but at least he didn't just _barge in_ this time. You're not sure you could handle it if he caught you again.

Good thing you'd prepared everything for your movie night hours ago, before you'd pulled out the collar "just for a few minutes". It would be so _awkward_ otherwise. You'd've had to come up with an excuse because it's not like you can tell him the _truth_ , and he would have seen through you because he's Perry the Platypus and he always sees through your lies, and then you'd both know about the thing you'd agreed to _never speak of again_. Metaphorically, in his case.

Anyway.

"Perry the Platypus!" you say, after opening the door to reveal him standing there, cool and confident as always. "Come on in, I'll get the popcorn ready."

He does, striding into the darkened room like he can see perfectly. Or like he's been here often enough to know where you keep everything, which you think is more likely. After all, he _does_ come over a lot. More often than anyone else, that's for sure.

Either way, you leave him to it while you make the popcorn, pulling out the biggest bowl you own because he never leaves any for you. You have no idea where he puts it all, either, he's _tiny_.

While it cooks, you lean your head out through the doorway. "Thank you for knocking, by the way. It's so much more _polite_."

He gives you a thumbs-up and continues rearranging the chairs. You have no idea why he bothers but it's not like it's a _problem_ so you leave him to it. Keeps him busy and it's better than him digging through your stuff. Not that you expected _privacy_ when you signed up to OWCA's nemesis system, _they_ go through your possessions all the time, but it'd be different if Perry the Platypus did it.

Because you _trust_ Perry the Platypus.

Mostly.

Well, not yet, but you _want_ to trust him. It's a tentative thing. He's good at the thwarting business, _great_ with Vanessa, even seems to tolerate you and your watered-down backstories... part of you hopes that can carry over to everything else.

The rest of you, the smarter half, knows you're far more likely to get burned. After all, that's how every other time went. Why should this be any different?

Before you can brood on it any longer, the popcorn's done.

You carry the bowl out and settle into the second most comfortable chair you own. Perry the Platypus claimed the most comfortable one months ago and you didn't see the point in refusing him, not when he could kick your butt six ways to Sunday. Sure, you'd _complained_ , but he knows you well enough to know how to tell when it's just bluster. Even if sometimes you wish he didn't.

"So, what are we watching tonight?" you ask, as he shoves a pawful of popcorn into his mouth. Not even waiting for the movie, sheesh.

He pulls out a dvd case from his hat as an answer, showing you the cover.

Despite yourself, you're surprised. "The new Space Adventure movie? Perry the Platypus, how did you _get_ this? It hasn't even left theatres yet!"

The answer's not important, so when he shrugs you drop the subject. You don't want to _pry_ , not when you have your own secrets you want to keep that way. Easier to pretend it's nothing than to open yourself up for questioning.

He slides off the chair, crossing to the dvd player to put it on, and you take advantage of the brief reprieve from his gaze to rub at your neck where the collar was. You've been wearing it more than usual the last few days and it's starting to chafe.

Then he glances back at you and you pretend you were just tugging at your shirt collar instead. "Is it hot in here?" you say, in a voice you _know_ is far too high to not be suspicious.

You _know_ he notices it, because he notices everything, that's what he _does_. But one slow blink later and he's turning back to the dvd player, apparently choosing not to call attention to your lies. You're thankful for that, honestly.

Still, you're tense enough that you can barely focus on the movie. Your neck still itches, and you try to resist but by the dramatic climax you're rubbing at it again. Which he notices. Again.

It's not like you were expecting him _not_ to, but it feels more personal than your schemes somehow and you're not ready for that level of intimacy, you don't want him to _know_ you're an emotional wreck who can barely hold it together on the best of days and cry yourself to sleep at least a few days every month when it all gets too much. You don't want him to think less of you for it.

"That was great wasn't it, Perry the Platypus, oh would you look at the time it's late you should go," you say as soon as the credits start rolling, in an attempt to shoo him out as quick as possible so you can curl up in a pile of blankets and ignore the world for a time.

He lets himself be shooed, walking towards the door. Just as he's about to cross the threshold, though, he stops, turning back to stare at you.

You smile weakly at him, hating how obviously broken you are. "Next week?" you try, and he nods.

Then he's gone and _that_ hurts too.

So, as soon as you're sure he's not coming back, you go to pull out the collar again. Anything to feel a little more comfortable.


	2. bringing back these memories i wish i didn't have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Perry the Platypus's motivations are even more inscrutable than usual (but he means well).

The day he catches you wearing it during a scheme is the worst one yet.

You'd known it was a bad idea, that he was sure to catch you, but you'd felt terrible enough that it had still seemed like a better option. Besides, you'd _planned_ for the thwarting to be at a distance, none of this _up close and personal_ fighting. Although that had happened anyway.

Not that any of it matters when he looks at you like he's doing right now.

You know he's judging you. How can he not? Everyone else would. You would. You already _do_.

He blinks at you, slowly, and your heart's in your throat and your hands are shaking and you want him to look away, you want to hide away so deep no one can ever find you again, and then he's looking back at the remote in your hands from the scheme you suddenly don't care about.

But you're supposed to care about it. So you fake it, you're _good_ at faking, and he stops staring at you with that uncomfortably piercing gaze. Everything's fine and back to normal.

It's not quite as comfortable as it should be.

* * *

That evening, he shows up carrying a sturdy plastic bag, an opaque white you can't see through and can't bring yourself to want to. Since he's already thwarted you today it's a personal call rather than a business call, so you invite him in for some tea and do your best to ignore the bag.

He sits at the table with his delicate paws curled around a warm mug of the oolong tea you try to have on hand for him, the bag tucked beneath his feet, and you keep ignoring it.

All through the conversation, if you can even call it that when he's not saying anything - because of course he doesn't, he's a _platypus_ \- you continue to ignore the bag because what else are you supposed to do? You're terrified. Only the warm mug in your hands keeps you from visibly shaking and you know he's noticed how much you're _not_ talking, you can see the way he's frowning at you even when you can't meet his eyes, and yet he doesn't point it out which you're thankful for because you're _so_ not ready for that conversation.

When he leaves, tipping his hat at you politely, he doesn't take the bag with him. You can't tell if it was accidental or deliberate and you're not sure which would be worse.

* * *

It's not until you're staring at the door he left through that you decide to ask anyway, running out after him.

* * *

"So what is this, Perry the Platypus?" you ask. You're sitting on one end of your couch, trying not to squirm under his focused gaze. He's at the other end, plastic bag next to him, not quite at eye level even standing up straight.

Like you could meet his eyes anyway. You can't look at him, he knows too much already and you can't bear to give him a chance to learn even more, and he _would_ , he'd stare into you and know _everything_. He's very observant, your nemesis. Sometimes you wish he wasn't because then you could _pretend_ you're fine and make him believe it, but you can't because he wouldn't.

He's probably already noticed the way you're still wearing your collar.

And that's something you still have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, he _noticed it_ , but on the other he's still not calling attention to anything, not turning you into a laughingstock over it.

You wish he would, instead of making you stew in this _tension_.

After all, it's only a matter of time before he changes his mind, you're sure of it. So why would he drag it out, if not to make it worse later-

He gestures at you.

It's enough to startle you and you flinch, wishing more than anything you weren't so _scared_. When you can bring yourself to look he's still staring at you, face calm and collected and not judging, which you _know_ is a lie. Everyone judges you, why would he be any different? But you don't call him on it, because it'll only hurt worse when he confirms it.

Another gesture, and you swallow down the panic. "You want me to close my eyes?" you ask, voice steadier than you'd expected, and he nods. Okay. "Okay, if you say so." And you do, holding a hand over them as well so he can tell you're serious.

For a moment everything's silent except the sound of your breathing.

"I don't know what you're doing but-" _I trust you_ , you can't say. The words get caught in your throat and you don't even know if they're _true_ and even if they were how would you tell him? "-can't you hurry it up a little?" No, it's safer not to bring it up at all. You've _learned_ from your past mistakes. No more baring your heart only to be stabbed in it. No more emotional vulnerability. It's not going to happen.

You feel his webbed feet on your thighs, his breath against your cheek, and you freeze. Maybe he's going to kiss you-? No, of course not, why would he-

His fingers brush over the sides of your neck, pulling at the edge of your shirt, and you're seized with panic. He's going to take the collar, you should have known it wouldn't last, why did you ever think you could _trust_ him-

All he does is push it up.

It stays when he lets go, and then he's buckling something else around your neck. Another collar? You lift your free hand to touch it, choking down a sob. It's leather, _expensive_ leather, far more comfortable than your fabric one. A cool metal tag hangs down over the hollow of your throat, and you can feel something engraved onto it when you run your fingers over the face.

You can't quite believe it. He gave you _a collar_.

"What does it say," you ask quietly, not opening your eyes. If you look you'll break the spell and lose everything, that's how it always works. So if you keep them closed you can stretch this out a little longer, put off the end of it just a _little longer_...

He tugs gently at your hand and you let him have it, holding your breath as he turns your palm upwards. Slowly, he traces lines across your palm. Letters.

_H-E-I-N-Z_

Your name. You're wearing a collar with _your name_ on it that _he put there_. It's enough to make you light-headed.

It has to be a dream. There's no way it's not a dream, because why would he ever get this close to you at all, let alone do something like _this_. There's no way it's anything but a dream, and you've never wanted a dream to end _less_ than you do right now. It has to, you know it _has_ to, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it while it lasts. Even if it's just so you have something nice to think on later. Heavens know you could do with some of _that_.

His paw's still moving across your palm, more letters, and you force yourself to focus on them and not the way your skin tingles afterwards or your own racing heart.

I-F L-O-S-T R-E-T-U-R-N T-O P-E-R-R-Y

You actually _do_ sob at that, burying your face into his shoulder. He's too good to you. Literally too Good for someone as _evil_ as you try to be, even though you fail at that the way you do everything else. What does he even see in you? Why does he _stay_ , instead of abandoning you like everyone else does?

His arms wrap around you before you can go too far down the path of self-loathing and he chirrs, the sound rumbling in his chest. It sounds so nice and he's so warm against you and you can't help but purr back, the way you used to with your ocelot family. The way you haven't in a long time. You haven't let yourself, not since Charlene teased you about it back when you were dating, long enough ago that you weren't even engaged yet. Years ago. And yet every time you want to you hear her laugh in the back of your mind and you just... don't. You still haven't quite forgiven her for that.

But Perry the Platypus doesn't laugh. Instead, he brushes his fingers through your hair, _petting_ you, like the cat you never quite managed to be. And when you lean into him, desperate for more despite how little you deserve any of it, he _keeps going_. If this is a dream, it's the best one you've ever had.

Eventually, still too soon, he pulls away. He tugs the hand away from your eyes and you look at him automatically, take in the shy smile, the way he's still holding your hand. Maybe it's not a dream then.

Part of you wants to tell him how much this means to you, how much you appreciate it, but you choke on the words and how can you be so sure he'll listen anyway and really you don't want to _impose_ , so, "When was the last time you groomed yourself, Perry the Platypus, you're _filthy_ ," you say, once again avoiding the metaphorical elephant in the room. It's large and smelly and really not all that pleasant to think about, by which you mean your feelings are all those things.

He narrows his eyes at you, pointedly brushing off his fur.

Really, he chooses now to get all huffy? You roll your eyes, still not acknowledging the whole _collar_ thing even though you probably should. "Come on, you're not even trying, let me-" and you're holding him in place, despite his squirming, licking his fur flat the way Mama Ocelot used to do for you. He squeaks grumpily at you and shoves at your shoulder, but you're _determined_. You're going to groom him clean whether he likes it or not. Mama Ocelot never let _you_ up when she was grooming you, no matter how scratchy her tongue was, and you were a _lot_ more stubborn than Perry the Platypus.

Besides, if he really wanted to stop you he _would_ , he knows all your weak points. So, since he's not beating you to a pulp, that must mean he doesn't mind all that much.

"This was - a lot - easier - when Mama Ocelot - was doing it," you complain between long sweeps of your tongue over his fur, which is a lie but he doesn't need to know that, and he relents. He stops struggling and _lets_ you groom him, rolling over so you can get at his back, and if that's not a symbol of trust you don't know what is.

You file the thought away to deal to later, when you're alone again, and focus on the task at hand. After all, he's supposed to be the _hero_ , with fur as pristine as his little Good Guy heart, not a mess like you are.

Right now his fur tastes of dirt and grass, like he's been rolling around in a field, and you can't help but picture that. Perry the Platypus, lying on the grass like he has nothing better to do. It's so undignified, so unlike his _agent-y_ persona. So _adorable_ , and you're not just saying that because you think you're halfway in love with him, which has nothing to do with the events barely five minutes ago except it sort of does anyway because your head's still spinning from it. Deep down you wish you're kissing him instead but you _can't_ , it's completely out of the question, why would he want to kiss _you_ , so instead you lick more dirt out of his fur and try not to think about how it might feel to kiss him.

After a while he sighs - or the physical equivalent because he doesn't make a sound, just stretches out his adorably handsome and muscular body - the very picture of utter comfort. You never thought he could be this relaxed around you, because even at your movie nights he's still an _agent_ who has to be ready to leave at any moment to thwart evil, and it's... nice. It's really, really nice. 

And he's _clean_ now, so you flop down beside him, draping an arm over his shoulders and nuzzling at his cheek. "We should do this more often, Perry the Platypus," you say drowsily, half-asleep already because it really has been a long day, and he blinks at you slowly. You go to blink back and then-

* * *

It's morning. You sit up, squinting in the morning light, at the apartment where Perry the Platypus is nowhere to be seen. He's... gone.

Of course he's gone, who would want to stay with _you_? You'd expected this. Happens every time. You rub a hand over your face and try to quash your disappointment, because you already miss his company and it's been a long time since you woke up with anyone next to you at all and you'd _hoped_ , but the only sound is your breathing as you try not to sob.

At least he didn't take your collar. You can still feel it around your neck, the metal tag warm against your skin. So at least he left you that much. And one of his blankets, too, tucked around you like he actually _cares_. Such a generous nemesis. You press your face into the thin material, breathing in the lingering scent of his fur, sharp and confident and dangerous like the rest of him. It's reassuring, a sign that he didn't just _abandon_ you like so many other people have.

It's not much, but it's something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, two chapters in, with a schedule I've managed to stick to thus far. That's... pretty good, actually. Expect chapter 3 in about another month. ~~That should be enough time for me to finish it, right? XD~~
> 
> Next time... well, I'm hoping to delve into the whole "raised by ocelots" thing a little more. Amongst other things.
> 
> I also have other projects in various stages of completion (as always) so who knows, I might finish one of those during the wait too. (All standalone unless specified otherwise.)


	3. sometimes i think of letting go, and never looking back, and never moving forward so there'd never be a past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Perry the Platypus has changed everything (and nothing at all).

Orange. The collar he gave you, it's _orange_. Like his bill. That has to be why he chose it, there's no way he could have known it's your favourite colour. After all, nothing you own is orange. You don't _deserve_ it.

And yet you can't stop running your fingers over the orange leather, mesmerised by the way it looks in the mirror, the way it looks _on you_. Really brings out your eyes.

You still don't _deserve_ it, but it's not like you have your _old_ one to wear instead-

Wait a minute.

You run a finger over where your old scratchy collar should be. Nothing. Your neck is completely bare. Did he take it? You have no idea why he _would_ , but then again you don't understand why he does any of the things he does. Other than the whole _fighting evil_ thing, _that's_ been clear from the start.

Whatever. He can keep it. It's not like it was _comfortable_ anyway.

Still, you'll miss it. It's not just _any_ collar, it's the one you'd bought for that one scheme with the _dog show_ a few weeks ago. Not that you'd had a chance to do anything with it there, but you'd still bought it. You're glad of that now, the not-using-it thing, with the way things worked out. It would have been _awkward_ if Perry the Platypus had caught you in a collar you'd tried to put on _him_ when he was in disguise as your new dog. Well, more awkward. It's never _not_ been awkward.

Wearing it the first time had been a whim. You'd come home, thoroughly thwarted and upset about it, and seen it lying unopened on the kitchen table. After the day you'd had, the idea of being someone's _pet_ didn't feel as demeaning as it should have. Then one thing led to another, it became a habit, and now...

Now you're _Perry's_ , according to your new collar. Perry the Platypus's pet ocelot, because you're better at being an ocelot than being a _human_ and maybe that's why you picked up the collar in the first place. If you're an _ocelot_ you don't have to worry about human things like _money_ and _unspoken social rules_ and all those other things you've never really understood.

Even so, you can't bring yourself to give up on trying to be human anyway, after all the effort you've put in. You can't just leave Vanessa without a _father_. Besides, how would you even get warm meals as an ocelot? Warm edible food that doesn't make your stomach twist the way raw meat still does-

Your stomach growls. Right, breakfast.

It's not like you're _picky_ , you tell yourself as you stagger into the kitchen. You've eaten _Drusselsteinian food_. Doesn't get much worse than that. Either way, you have a good thing going here, no point in _squandering_ it. Even if, sometimes, you miss the simplicity of life as an ocelot. Maybe you _should_ go back...

You sigh, digging through the leftovers in the fridge. If only it was that easy. You're caught between two worlds, animal and human, and Perry the Platypus is the only one who _understands_. Well, Peter the Panda too, but he lives in _Seattle_ and you don't want to face Perry the Platypus's suspicious glare if you go to visit him. Sheesh, you cheat on a guy _once_ and he never trusts you again.

In hindsight, you can't say you blame him. You, uh, hadn't realised he'd take it so badly.

Anywho. He never seems bothered by the way humans - _other_ humans, because _you're_ human aren't you - treat him as different, or the way other animals are instinctively wary of him. You've seen the way they all look at him. It's the same way they look at _you_ , like you don't _belong_. But no, _he_ can ignore it. Water off a duck's back and all that, or should that be water off a duck-billed platypus's back? Because he's a- No, that's too on-the-nose, it was better the first time.

That's what you want. To _not care_. You want the confidence to be _yourself_ , the way he's so firmly Perry the Platypus, instead of hiding it away out of shame and fear. You want to find somewhere you can belong. You want to know someone thinks you're worth anything at all.

And if you have to be Perry the Platypus's pet ocelot to get any of that, so be it.

* * *

Around mid-morning, after you'd polished off the remains of lasts week's tuna salad and rehearsed your monologue, you hear the telltale sound of Perry the Platypus kicking down the door. It's comforting to hear the _proof_ that he's returned, not just your all-too-optimistic hopes, so you don't even mind the damage you'll absolutely have to pay to fix later. It wouldn't be the same without him crashing through the door. Besides, you get bulk discounts with how often you have to call for repairs, because he does this _every time_.

Not that you'll let that stop you complaining at him. "Why can't you just _knock_ , Perry the Platypus?"

He rolls his eyes, which you'd expected, and steps into the misshapen sweater trap you'd set right in front of the door, which you'd also expected. You'd think he'd notice such an obvious trap, but he never does. Oh well. You don't _mind_ , really. In fact, it's almost _courteous_ , giving you a chance to monologue at him about your latest inator. Speaking of which.

"You're just in time for my latest inator: the Yarn-inator!" you proclaim, gesturing at the inator in question. His eyes meet yours, then flick down to where your turtleneck doesn't quite hide the shape of the collar you couldn't bring yourself to take off, then back up to the inator. It stands tall and thin and you really should have reconsidered the time you've spent knitting scarves for it over the last month. "Do you ever notice how much yarn _costs_? It's practically daylight robbery! That's why I made this, to make my _own_ yarn and run everyone else out of business so I can sell yarn unopposed! Then, with my army of loyal customers, I'll be free to take over the Tri-State Area!" It's a good plan, if you do say so yourself.

From the look he gives you, he's not convinced. But what does he know, huh? You bet he's never so much as picked up knitting needles. In fact, you doubt he's even tried _crochet_.

Turning away from his intense stare, you stride towards the control panel on the side. "Don't look at me like that, Perry the Platypus, I know what I'm doing. Have you ever seen knitters fight? _Terrifying_ , let me tell you." You shudder to drive the point home. "With the help of this, my Yarn-inator, I will be the biggest! supplier! of yarn! in the entire Tri-State Area! And then all the knitters will flock to _me_ -"

In hindsight, you should have expected the flying kick to the face right about then. You groan from the floor where you landed, rolling onto your front, just in time to see him scanning the control panel for your usual self-destruct button. Can't have _that_. Not yet at least. So you narrow your eyes, wiggling as you calibrate the angle and power you'll need, and _pounce_.

He'll never see it coming.

Except he _does_ , backflipping away at the last second, not even a single strand of fur out of place, while you crash into the inator. _Typical_. But, since you're here, you jab your fingers at the buttons on the control panel in the overcomplicated initialisation pattern you'd set. No use _building_ an inator if you can't _fire_ it.

And fire it you do. The beam blasts at where the sweater trap still sits, sliced open from the inside, with a small pair of scissors lying nearby. Unsurprisingly, the sweater turns into a tangled mess of yarn.

" _Mayyyy_ be I should have made it easier to aim," you say when he raises an eyebrow at you, "because _that_ was pointless. There was no point. It's already yarn, what was I _thinking_? Probably that you'd still be _trapped_ , in hindsight. So if you could stand over there so I can blast you with it, _then_ we'd be getting somewhere! How's that sound?"

He stares at you levelly for a few moments, not moving, then walks over to the exact location the inator's aimed at like he has no idea what you're planning. It's always a surprise how _oblivious_ he is, how _trusting_ , and you'd feel bad for taking advantage of it but he's still your _nemesis_.

You turn back to the control panel, initialising it again - why _did_ you make it such a long and unwieldy process, anyway - ready to defeat Perry the Platypus once and for all-

A large ball of yarn bounces across the control panel and you dive at it automatically. Before you know it, you're stuck, trapped the way you'd trapped Perry the Platypus earlier. The only difference is that _he_ had scissors. Which you'd left out for him like the polite nemesis you are, because it's no fun if he can't _fight_.

When you glance back at him he's once again studying the control panel, not looking at you at all. You squirm against the yarn. "A little help here, Perry the Platypus?"

He glances up at you, a slight smile gracing his bill, and continues to do absolutely _nothing_ to help.

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing," you complain. "You want me to tell you how to disable it. Well I won't, so there!" You can get out all by yourself, you're sure of it. All you need is the scissors he used earlier, so if you just-

Bump into the inator, apparently. Again.

It topples over like a felled tree, because you hadn't thought this through and decided putting all the heavy parts at the _top_ was a good idea, firing off one last blast into the distance before it smashes against the ground. And by "smash" you mean you've seen more structural integrity in a car wreck.

Job done, he goes to leave, even though you're still tied up here. Not that you expected him to stop, but you'd _hoped_...

"Wait wait wait," you blurt out as he strides past you, and he stops. "How did you know it would work?"

He turns to you, eyebrow raised, and nods at your collar. One slow blink later and he's gone, disappearing through the door to get back to... wherever it is he goes. You're not sure where it is, you've never asked. Wherever it is, you hope he's happy there.

And now you're staring at where he was a moment ago, tangled in a ball of yarn. Well and truly thwarted. As usual. "Curse you, Perry the Platypus," you mutter. Despite that, you're smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MADE IT. Why did I ever think a deadline was a good idea.
> 
> Also fight scenes. Why did I have to choose the ship that requires fight scenes to tell a full narrative. _Such_ a pain in the butt to write.  
>  Concrit on it is _greatly_ appreciated. I'd love to hear what works for you, what doesn't... particularly the latter, so I can work on making the next one(s) better. Because a "next one" is inevitable. ~~Curse this ship.~~
> 
> Either way, hope you're all still liking this~
> 
> [Bonus ocelot](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/177726759989411840/417240408955813889/tumblr_n4gk17i9H81s8mgkyo7_1280.png) because why not.


	4. but the sound of your voice puts the pain in reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Perry the Platypus is the best owner an ocelot could ask for (until he isn't).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, an update. Thanks to everyone still reading!
> 
> **Warning for a panic attack.** ~~*glances at "eventual fluff" tag* ...Whoops.~~

Somehow, miraculously, the next few weeks are... good. Different, but the sort of different where nothing really changes at all. He still _thwarts_ you every chance he gets, but that's _fine_ because he usually comes back later in the evening to keep you company, which is reassuring and terrifying at the same time because you're still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Still, you try to put it out of your mind when he comes over. Live in the moment. Ignore the shiver that runs up your spine when he glances at your neck. Don't push because then he'll realise what a mistake he's made and _leave_. Everything's fine for now, why would you want it to be over _quicker_?

Just stop thinking and let it happen. You can do that, can't you?

...Can't you?

* * *

Before you know it, it's movie night again. You're draped across his lap, eyes closed and purring from the way he's running his fingers through your hair, not even paying attention to the movie. What was it, some sort of romance? You don't remember. Perry the Platypus chose it.

You'd never figured him for the type, but you suppose even a secret agent has to let his hair down sometimes. Or his hat. He's a platypus, he doesn't have _hair_ , unless his fur counts... but you think that's different, he can't _style_ it so it doesn't fit the metaphor. So, let his hat down. By... crying over romcoms, apparently. It's kind of adorable, when you think about it. He acts so _hard_ and _tough_ all the time, who would have thought he'd have a soft side? Not you, that's for sure. But he does. One of the many things you've learned about him over these past few weeks.

And there's the sniffles now. You stretch your arms out, grabbing the box of tissues and passing it to him without looking. A moment later you hear the sound of him blowing his nose, then dropping the tissue onto the floor in front of the couch you're both lying on.

"You're cleaning that up," you mumble.

Even without looking, you can tell he's rolling his eyes. Who does he think he's fooling, huh? He loves you. Well, not _loves_ loves, you're not _that_ optimistic, why would he- but at least he _cares_ , right? And that's more than anyone else has done in the last few years. Maybe ever. You'll take it.

He runs a paw along your spine and you shiver, letting yourself lean into him. It still surprises you how gentle he can be with those perfect little paws of his, when he feels like it. Like now. Not that you're _complaining_. It's nice. As an added bonus, it doesn't even _hurt_. Not that you have a problem with the way he hits you while you fight, you _enjoy_ that, but it's _nice_ to not be punched in the face for once.

The problem is, if you get used to _this_ , you'll start wanting _more_. Things you can't have. Things you don't deserve. And you're fine the way you are, you don't _need_ to know what he'd look like if you kissed him, it's enough to have him in your life.

You stretch again, then tuck yourself closer to him, arms folded under you. "Have they kissed yet?" you ask, opening one eye to look at the screen. "It's about time- _oh, Julietta, no_!" Completely invested now, you push yourself up onto your elbows so you can see the screen better. "What is she _doing_? Doesn't she love Marco?"

Perry the Platypus huffs a laugh above you, running a paw down your side. So you _may_ have been paying attention to the movie. Only enough to follow the plot. You can't help it, you have to know why Perry the Platypus chose to share it with _you_. What he's telling you. He's an enigma and you can't figure him out but you _want_ to know, you _want_ to understand why he bothers to stick around, what he gets out of it.

Then Marco bursts into Julietta's wedding with an "I object!" just before she marries Alex, saving her from a lifetime of unhappiness - except it's not really a _lifetime_ , you know she could just get a divorce, it's not _that_ hard - and you're sobbing from the emotion of it all. Perry the Platypus joins in at the big dramatic kiss, blowing his nose into your lab coat.

And everything's _fine_. Julietta gets her happy ending with Marco and they elope to a tropical island where Alex's family can't find them. Perry the Platypus lets go of your sleeve and leans back while the credits roll, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. He's such an attractive target that you have to pounce on him, licking his fur clean where his sobbing had left it a mess until he pushes you away, smiling. A moment later he slides down to the floor, picking up the tissues he'd left on the carpet and tossing them into the trash with startling accuracy, considering it's halfway across the room. You... _You're_ content to sit back and watch him do it. After all, you rarely get to see him show off, and you _know_ he's showing off right now. He wouldn't keep glancing back at you if he wasn't showing off.

Even good things have to end sometime, you know that, but it still feels too soon when he's heading for the door.

"That was fun, Perry the Platypus," you say before he can go. He turns to look at you, paw on the door handle, and you push down the urge to beg him to stay. You've taken up enough of his time, you should be happy with what you got. And you are, mostly. "See you tomorrow?"

He smiles at you again, still breathtakingly handsome, and tips his hat in agreement. Then he's gone.

You sigh as the door closes behind him, aching loneliness settling about your shoulders like an old friend. It never left, not really, but when Perry the Platypus is around you can forget for a while. It's enough.

* * *

"Catnip," you say to Plushy the Snugglepus when you're curled up in bed one night. "He brought _catnip_."

You can still smell it, the sharp minty sweetness that takes you back to the forests of Gimmelshtump, huddling with the other kittens while Mama Ocelot hunted. She'd left you all in a patch of it so you wouldn't wander too far. It had been so cold. The worst winter in decades, you'd found out later, but all you'd known at the time was a cold that sunk deep into your bones until warmth was a distant dream. You'd survived. Some of the other kittens hadn't been so lucky.

Pushing down a sob, you hug Plushy the Snugglepus closer. "I mean it's nice to know he cares," you whisper into the polyester, eyes squeezed shut. You ignore the voice in your head that says you should be _ashamed_ of this, of clinging to a facsimile of your nemesis because it's _almost_ like having him here, of relying on him in the first place. "He doesn't _know_ -"

How could he, when you can't even bring yourself to backstory about it? It's still raw, after all this time, and you have no idea where you'd even begin. Are there even words to describe the terror you felt, the ache in your ribs when you'd realised, the gnawing hunger... The other kittens hadn't hesitated. You-

You want to throw up.

Instead, you claw at your collar, tugging at the buckle with clumsy fingers. You don't want to be an ocelot right now. You don't want to be anything but _human_. You don't want... this. This life, this pain, this collar to remind you of it all. It's painfully tight around your neck, and you'd thought it was _comforting_ but you were _wrong_ , it's _not_ , it's only ever meant your suffering. Just like everything else.

It's not coming undone and your eyes are squeezed shut and your chest aches and you can't breathe and in the back of your mind you can't help but wonder if Perry the Platypus has ever felt this _trapped_.

Probably not. You trap him all the time, it's your _thing_ , but not like this. Never as inescapably as this.

Maybe this was his plan all along. Revenge for your traps. Give you what you thought you wanted and make you regret ever wanting it in the first place. Lure you in with false compassion. You can't even hate him for it. After all, it's only what you deserve.

At last the collar comes loose in your hands and you fling it away, you have to get it _away_. It hits the wall with a bang and you whimper, curling in on yourself, frantic heartbeat echoing in your ears. You're not okay. Unshed tears sting in your eyes and you're breathing too fast and you're not okay. Even buried under the warmest blankets you own you're still _so cold_ , and you're not okay. Foghorns echo outside your window, and you're not even _remotely_ okay.

"What do I _do_ , Plushy the Snugglepus?" Your voice comes out as a whine, too high and squeaky, and you hug him tight. You're not okay. "I can't- he doesn't-" The words get stuck in your throat, and you're not okay. "I'm not okay." It sounds strange to hear it out loud, like you're admitting failure. Because you are, aren't you. Can't even hold it together. You're a-

The door slams open and you flinch, pulling your legs to your still-aching chest. Memories come flooding back, all the pain that's inevitably followed from slamming doors, voices screaming that everything's your fault and always has been and always _will_ be, and you still don't cry because that's not _manly_.

When you dare to look, you see Perry the Platypus standing in the doorway, looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Moonlight glints off the collar in his paws and you shiver, pulling your blankets tighter around you. It's still so cold in here, and yet he probably doesn't even feel it with his fur. You wish, not for the first time, that you could be more like him. He's never bothered by, well, _anything_. Not like _you_.

You swallow, pushing aside the fear because you can't let him _see_ how much of a mess you are. "Perry the Platypus," you say, forcing a smile. "I was just... sleeping?"

He narrows his eyes like he doesn't believe you, and why would he? You're a terrible liar. Terrible, useless, pathetic-

"I'm fine," you say to drown out your thoughts, and it feels like a lie. "Just a nightmare, I get those sometimes, nothing to worry about." More lies. "You don't have to stay-"

But you want him to.

You turn away, looking anywhere but at him, trying to ignore the way your heart aches. "No, really, Perry the Platypus, I'll be fine. You can go back to whatever it is you do when you're not fighting me, I'm sure it's more important-"

He shakes his head, still staring at you with that level gaze you've come to know so well. Sometimes you hate how perceptive he is, the way he sees right through the facade you put on.

"No," you whisper to his silent question, shaking your head. "Not right now-"

A nod, and he sets the collar down on a nearby shelf. The click of the buckle against the solid wood is loud in the silence, and you let out a shaky breath, letting relief wash over you. He's not going to make you wear it. Not that you'd thought he _would_ , but... you sort of had.

You don't deserve him. You don't deserve such an amazing and wonderful nemesis, who's there for you nearly every day, both as an enemy and as a _friend_. You don't deserve to be this _happy_ -

Abruptly, he jumps at the edge of your bed, his little claws scrabbling at the sheets while he pulls himself up. You always forget how _tiny_ he is. He's _adorable_. And by "adorable" you mean you adore him. Especially when he's looking at you like this, the corner of his mouth turned up like he actually enjoys your company, and you feel yourself do the same. It still hurts to smile, but at least it's real this time.

The buzzing in your brain quiets down to a dull roar, and only then do you realise it was there in the first place. The world is sharper without it, only the sound of your still-erratic breathing filling the air, and you feel some of the bone-deep cold recede. Not all of it, you're still shivering, but warmth blooms in your chest and that helps. He's smiling at you and that helps. You're glad he's here. But- "How did you know?" you ask quietly, letting your gaze fall to where his paws keep curling and uncurling, over and over.

He lifts a paw to his chest, fingers fluttering like a... a heartbeat?

"You were spying on my heartbeat? With the-" You can't help but glance over at where the collar still rests, pale in the soft light of the moon, looking almost white instead of the orange you know it is. The thought of it makes you sick. You pull the blankets tighter. "A-anyway, I'm glad you came. You didn't have to-"

The rest of your protest is cut off as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear - a startlingly _human_ gesture - and you glance up into warm brown eyes. When did he get so close?

You blink slowly at him, not knowing what else to do.

He stops, paw behind your ear, eyes roaming over your face like he's searching for something. Whatever it is, he obviously doesn't find it, because he pulls back a moment later and twists his fingers together the way you do. You're not sure how to feel about that.

Putting it out of your mind, you take a deep breath to steady yourself, feeling the air burning in your chest. You welcome the pain of it, because at least it means you're breathing. Then, once you're sure your voice won't fail you, you speak. "Perry the Platypus?" It comes out quiet, but thankfully level.

Slowly, he drops down to all fours, and you _swear_ his body changes in the process. Not that you have the time to think about it, because he leans against your blanket cocoon, staring meaningfully at you.

All you can do is stare back, mind blank. He's telling you something, but what? "Stay with me?" you ask eventually, lifting one edge so he can crawl in with you if he wants, not that you're _expecting_ him to-

He does.

You push down a whimper as he wedges himself against you, rumbling with what you think is a purr, the earthy scent of his fur driving away the last lingering traces of catnip. He's so _warm_ , and you wrap yourself around him, face pressed into his fur, thankful for his solidity. Much better than Plushy the Snugglepus-

Which Perry the Platypus has found. He twists around in your arms, frowning at you. Judging you.

"Sometimes I get lonely, okay?" you mutter, glancing away. "And you're always so _nice_ to me - you know, except when we're _fighting_ , you're not nice there at all, not that I _mind_ \- so I thought 'who better to rely on than Perry the Platypus'. But I couldn't just _ask_ you, you have better things to do than comfort your _nemesis_ , even though I'm also your... your pet, or whatever-" You never did ask him what was going on there. "-so I made Plushy the Snugglepus to... to stand in for you."

Tears prickle at your eyes again. You're sure he's going to leave after that little monologue, why wouldn't he? It's not like he has any reason to _stay_. Not after you've told him just how much you need him, how _useless_ you are. What kind of evil scientist _are_ you, to depend on him this much? What kind of man is this _weak_?

His paw brushes gently over your cheek, and you realise you're actually _crying_. Way to go, now you're even more pathetic.

And yet, against all expectations, he stays. He's still _frowning_ at you when you can bring yourself to look at his face, and you're not sure what's made him so mad at you this time, but he's _here_. For now.

It probably won't last long, but you'll take what you can get. Better than being alone.

* * *

This time, when you wake up, he's still here. The warm shape nestled in against you makes that much obvious. And it's so _unexpected_ and _nice_ that you have to choke back a sob, not wanting to wake him.

He's here with you, against all odds, and you think you're going to be okay. Maybe not right now, maybe not any time soon, but someday, you'll be okay.

And if he wants you to wear your collar again... You can live with that. To make him happy. Your neck feels bare without it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter title comes from [Battle Symphony](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7ab595h0AU) by Linkin Park. For some variety, I guess. And because things are looking up. Since, well, Easier To Run is a "run from the past" kind of thing, and Battle Symphony is "look to the future". ~~I know I'm probably overthinking it, shush :P~~
> 
> So uh... yeah. Two months late. Whoops.  
> Got blocked on it in March, April was Camp NaNoWriMo so I was attempting to work at a different (and longer) wip ~~and constantly getting distracted~~ , but here it is! In uh May.
> 
> Fun fact! The catnip scene is longer than the entire first chapter. And was also initially intended to be catnip _fluff_. That uh... that did not turn out as planned.
> 
> Next time... we'll see if I can keep to the promised schedule >.>


	5. i been searching for an answer, always just out of reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Perry the Platypus confesses a secret (and promptly pretends otherwise).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smooching chapter! It's been a long time coming.

The day he touches your collar again, the one he gave you - because he still hasn't given back your old one - you're not expecting it.

It's your day off, so you'd invited him over for lunch because that's what coworkers do, you may be _evil_ but you're not a _monster_ , and besides, you had _entirely_ too much seafood in your freezer. It made sense!

Even if you _had_ expected him to grab you by the collar, you definitely hadn't expected what he'd do next, an action you'd already considered and discarded the possibility of. After all, the last thing you could imagine him wanting to do was _kiss you_.

But he does. Apparently. He's hooked a tiny finger under your collar and tugged you down and _kissed you_ , and you're not sure how to react. Because really, _you're_ the one he wants to kiss? Out of everyone he knows? You'd thought he'd have _standards_. It seemed inevitable, because who would want to kiss _you_?

Then he pulls away and steps back and he looks the way you felt when he first caught you in your collar, like he wishes it hadn't happened and would really prefer to forget the whole thing so everything can go back to _normal_ , and you can understand that but it doesn't mean it doesn't still _hurt_ when he goes to leave, and you reach out to grab his paw.

"Wait," you say, voice raspy like you're about to cry. "Perry the Platypus, I..."

You've wanted to kiss him for so long. But he wasn't interested except apparently he was? Is? And you had no idea, which is _completely_ unfair, you could have kissed him so much already if he had just _told_ you.

He makes a noise, a soft questioning chirr, and you look up from his paw into his gorgeous brown eyes. Everything about him is perfect, from his soft fur to his strong chest to the way his paw's shaking in your hand. The last part's a surprise, you'd always thought he was too _suave_ to get nervous like this.

Before you can think about what you're doing, you kiss him. You press your lips against his gently, so he can pull away if he wants to, and he just about _melts_ into you. There's no other way you can describe how pliant he gets, losing the stiff posture he'd had only moments ago, and it's unfairly adorable. As is the tiny chirp he makes when you curl a hand around behind his head. Adorable.

You want to kiss him like this forever. Don't need anything else, just your hand in his paw and your mouth on his, until the end of time.

After an eternity or a few seconds or both, probably both, he breaks the kiss and you're suddenly reminded what _air_ is, gasping for it while your heart beats frantically in your chest. He's doing the same, furred chest heaving under his half-closed eyes. Too adorable. So, to make up for all the time you _could_ have been kissing him but weren't, you press kisses all over his bill and his face and his neck and everywhere you can reach until he slides his fingers under the collar again.

This time, he doesn't pull at it, or do anything at all beyond hold you in place. He doesn't _need_ to, you're frozen in place anyway.

You swallow. "Perry the Platypus?"

He blinks slowly, reaching up to his neck with his other paw to show you... a collar of his own? It hangs from his paw, worn copper in the shape of his foot, obviously cherished. How have you never noticed it before?

"You're-"

The rest of the sentence is swallowed whole as he kisses you again, soft and sweet and perfect. You close your eyes, a voice in the back of your mind wondering if the wetness on your cheeks means you're crying. Or maybe it's him. You can't tell any more. Then again, does it matter?

No, you decide. No, it does not.

* * *

To your eternal surprise, nothing changes.

He still fights you every day, he still comes over for your weekly movie, he still rolls his eyes at your jokes. The only thing that's different is that now he kisses you sometimes. Which is _nice_ , you're not _complaining_ , but.

It won't last. He'll get tired of you one day, then where will you be? A sad, lonely man- ocelot- man- why did ever you think you could be something you're _not_?

You wrench your hand from the collar and grit your teeth, staring at the wires in front of you like you can join them together with force of will alone. Wallowing in your own failures won't help, it never does, and you have schemes to plan. Inators to build. Monologues to write. You're an _evil scientist_ , you should be ruling over the Tri-State area by now!

And you _will_. Someday. Just as soon as you hit upon the right scheme.

* * *

The next few schemes are _not_ the right scheme and you're completely exhausted. So, after a particularly frustrating day, you drop into your chair with a bowl of popcorn for a quiet evening of Space Adventure (it's an adventure in space~). Something _familiar_. And yet you're barely past the opening sequence when _something_ smacks against the door.

"Who is it?" you call, regretfully setting aside the popcorn so you can stand up, remote in hand. You'd planned out the whole night, just you and a familiar movie and your comfortable old armchair, and visitors were definitely _not_ part of the plan.

No answer.

Glaring suspiciously at the door, you open it-

It slams open, a heavy box knocking you to the ground. You shove it off, pushing yourself up on your elbows so you can glare at whoever's responsible for this while it spills out on the floor. "Great, you just _had_ to- Perry the Platypus?"

There he is, standing in the doorway, a look of shock on his adorable face. You can't even hate him for it. Mostly because you can't hate him _period_ , nemesis or not, he's too endearing with his solid dependability and the embarrassed shrug he gives you and did you mention he's irritatingly adorable? Because he is.

"I wasn't expecting you this _ear_ ly." You haven't even cleaned up from today's thwarting yet. And now there's even _more_ of a mess, with smaller boxes scattered around because he hadn't even taped the lid shut, sheesh. "Let's get this all cleaned up, huh? I don't know _what_ you were thinking, carrying this up here by yourself- what is it, anyway?" You pick up one of the smaller boxes, flipping it over in your hands. Almond brittle? He's so _thoughtful_. "Aw, you shouldn't have!" you say, pulling him close to press a kiss to his cheek.

He shoves at you but he's smiling, he likes it.

With his help, you get all the almond brittle stacked neatly in the box - he brought so _much_ , you're not sure how you're going to eat it all - and clean the scorch masks and twisted bits of inator from the floor, ready for tomorrow. Well, he did most of the work. But you were _supervising_ , that has to count for _something_.

You hoist the box up when he's done, carrying it over to your armchair. "Did you want to stay and watch the rest of Space Adventure with me? I made popcorn, we could make it a _marathon_ , how's that sound?"

He tips his hat with a smile, then climbs up to sit on your armchair. The side with the popcorn, you notice, as he grabs a pawful.

Not that you're complaining, there's more than enough for you both to share, so you squeeze in beside him. "Can you hear it well enough, Perry the Platypus? No, wait, I'll turn it up- where's the remote, I know I had it with me earlier..." You twist around in the chair, searching, and your eyes fall on the box. It's in there, it has to be. So, you set to rummaging through all the almond brittle, tossing it aside, digging yourself deeper and deeper-

You fall in.

"A little help here?" you say, twisting around until you can stare up at the ceiling. "And stop laughing, it's not funny." You can't even see him but you know he has that grin he always gets when you make a fool of yourself. Like the time he'd thwarted you with a _laser pointer_ , of all things. You never did catch that red dot, either.

The box tips over, without warning, thumping to the ground with you still inside it. Ow. You take a moment to catch your breath, flat on your back, and then he's framed in the opening, wearing that _exact_ smile you'd known he'd have. And holding the remote.

Ap _par_ ently you didn't lose it in the box after all.

Which means you went through all that effort for nothing, that's _great_. That's absolutely _perfect_. You flip yourself over, glaring at him and his smug face, already complaining like always. "Can't you be gentle for once? Now my _bruises_ will have bruises!" You don't mean it, you know he knows you don't, but it's-

Tiny paws curl around your jaw and you freeze. He's so _close_ suddenly, breath whispering against your skin, the faint smell of his shampoo filling the small space around you, and you swallow. You didn't even see him move.

"I'm sorry, Perry the Platypus," you say eventually, avoiding his bright brown eyes. And you _are_. For... for taking out your frustrations on him, for wasting his time, for being _you_. "I don't know _what_ I was thinking. I-" No. No excuses. He deserves so much more than that. "You know I don't mean it, right? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me - not that there's much _competition_ , but the point still stands - and I don't want to lose that." You don't want to lose _him_. "What I'm trying to say is... I think I..." You wring your fingers together, trying to force the words out.

But you can't.

"Thank you," you say instead. "For being here."

And he kisses you. Presses his mouth to yours softly, holding your head in his paws, like you _mean_ something to him. That's the part that confuses you the most, if you're honest. He _knows_ who you are, all the worst parts of you, everything you're ashamed of, and yet he's still _here_. Kissing you.

How do you say no to that? You don't, that's how. Sighing into him, you let your eyes fall shut, hands settling around his shoulders so you have something to hold onto when he tilts your head back in a way you find _unreasonably_ attractive. Like, come on, it should _not_ feel this good to look _up_ to meet his eyes. Or mouth.

Really, you'd expected to feel _small_ , but with his paws on you all you can feel is cared for.

It's not long - nowhere near long enough - before he pulls back, a faint smile playing across his bill, and nods at the movie still playing on your tv.

Which, no. You shake your head, tucking your limbs underneath you as best you can. There's no way you're going out there, nope, he can't make you. It's far more comfortable in here, where you can hide. Where it's safe. _He_ can go out there and watch, but _you're_ staying right here, where there's no one to judge you. Not even him. "I'm not leaving," you say, hating the way you sound so _petulant_ , like a spoiled child. Which you _are_ , aren't you. Nothing's ever _enough_ for you. Mother was right all along.

He tilts his head at you, considering - _what_ , you have no idea - and then he's gone. You try not to be disappointed.

Next thing you know, he's thumped down by your shoulder, adorable arms wrapped around the bowl of popcorn. _He came back_. It's always a weight off your shoulders when he does, every time, because you can't quite believe it until he _does_ , even with the weight of the collar he gave you as a physical reminder of his _promise_ to. "If lost, return to Perry", how obvious is that? But you don't have much faith in promises any more.

Pushing _that_ mess out of your mind, you smile at him as best you can. It's still a little forced, but he smiles back, leaning against you like it's no big deal, holding a piece of popcorn to your lips.

You take it, flushing from the intimacy of it all. No one's ever _fed_ you like this before. And he keeps going, gentle fingers brushing against your lips with every piece, running his other paw through your hair, _soothing_ you until your chest rumbles with a purr. Closing your eyes, dazed, you forget everything but his paws and your collar and the way the smell of his fur blends with the popcorn in the small space.

There's a quiet snap and you don't even realise he's not giving you _popcorn_ this time until you taste the almonds, mixed in with sugary sweetness, the hard edge pressing into your tongue. You lean forwards, seeking more of it, finding his mouth on the other end instead. Not that you're complaining. Smiling for realsies now, you curl a hand around the back of his neck, pulling back just enough to stare into his eyes. " _You_ did that on _pur_ pose."

He gives you a _Look_ , smugly satisfied, with a glint in his eyes that says he not only _did_ but that he'd do it again in a heartbeat. You hate him, and by _hate_ you mean _appreci_ -hate. The best nemesis a guy could wish for.

On a whim, you take his paw, licking his fingers clean of any lingering stickiness from the almond brittle. Then the rest of his sleek fur - he doesn't even protest this time - then, once his fur is _pristine_ like it should be and he's staring at you with hooded eyes, you kiss him some more.

You don't ever want to stop. He's your nemesis, your best friend, your "owner", and you can't imagine a life without him any more. You've grown used to him, the shape of his paw as a fist or a gentle touch, his quiet solidity when all you want to do is scream back at the world, the way he _understands_ you like no one else has ever tried to.

"Thank you, Perry the Platypus," you whisper into his bill, between kisses.

A loud screech drags your attention back to the movie behind him. He turns too, growling, fingers tightening in your shirt.

Laughing, you hug him close. "Were you _scared_ , Perry the Platypus?" you ask, as the music swells for the big dramatic chase scene, and he shoves at you. Gentle shove, so you know he doesn't mean it. "Ooh, this is the good part. Lump Sharkboard just tried to infiltrate the base but the guards saw him- have you seen this before? You have? That's good, I don't want to explain the _whole_ \- right, yes, I'll shut up."

He rolls his eyes at you, scritching under your chin, and you can't help your quiet purr. It's not _your_ fault he has perfect scritching technique. Really, you have _got_ to convince him to do this more often. Since he's, you know, probably going to stick around for a while. Not forever, you know better than to expect _that_ , but long enough to feel like it. So, probably a few more months. You'll take what you can get.

Until then, you'll sit right here and enjoy the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah I can't keep to a schedule with this any more apparently. Especially since I've run out of plans. I was making it up as I go, and that tends to stall out eventually.  
>  There's probably more I can do with this idea (in fact I know there is, I have half-formed ideas lurking in my brain, waiting to coalesce), I just don't know _what_ at this point, and, uh, that's why I tend to stall out.  
>  But hey, I made it to the smooching, that's something, right?
> 
> Chapter title once again comes from Battle Symphony.


	6. Interlude: Cute Nicknames For Your Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If cat ownership was anything like platypus ownership, Perry suspected he'd never use Heinz's actual name again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, we take a dip into third omni with a focus on Perry.
> 
> Based on the actual names I call my housemate's cat.

**Pretty kitty**

There were many things Perry had gotten used to. Long hours, for one thing. A nemesis who apparently had no functional concept of 'silence', for another.

The flash of orange around the man's neck when he yawned, arms over his head, was not one of those things.

And yet, his nemesis had taken to the collar like it'd been made for him. Which, Perry supposed, it was, in a way. He'd bought it on a whim, because there was no way the old one could be _comfortable_ , not on bare skin.

The orange would bring out the deep blue of Heinz's eyes, he'd thought, refusing to question why he cared about that. Damningly, he'd even put the collar there himself, with his own two paws, instead of leaving it outside Heinz's door the way he should have. And now-

"You're _staring_ , Perry the Platypus," the man said, rolling his shoulders.

Perry snorted. Why _shouldn't_ he stare at his attractive boyfriend?

...Wait. Boyfriend? When had he gotten used to _that_?

* * *

**Flufflebutt**

For some reason, whenever Heinz would end up crawling into or under anything, his butt would wiggle. Perry couldn't help but notice this. Specifically, he found himself noticing the swish of the man's lab coat, almost like a proper tail. It was a good look for him, Perry decided, watching the exact same swish as his nemesis searched under the inator for its remote.

So there he dangled, upside down, arms folded, eyes glued to Heinz's wiggling butt while the man got his scheme together. The things he put up with for the view.

* * *

**Purrball**

Resting a paw on Heinz's head, Perry sighed, scritching his nemesis behind the ear.

Somehow, the man could purr. Somehow.

He insisted on demonstrating this every time he snuggled up close to Perry for their regular movie nights (and every other opportunity he could reasonably get away with), curled tight into a ball with a quiet rumble in his chest that nevertheless vibrated through to where Perry's heart beat in his own. It was unfairly adorable.

All Perry could do was resign himself to the heavy lump of boyfriend in his lap, knowing there was no way he could resist the purrball that was his nemesis.

Besides, everyone knows it's as good as illegal to disturb a napping cat, even if they _are_ biologically human.

* * *

**Cat**

Perry stared at Heinz, eyes narrowed.

Heinz stared right back.

Whatever the man was up to, and he was always up to _something_ , Perry did not approve. Running damage control for the inevitable disaster was a thankless job, in that Heinz very rarely acknowledged his efforts at all, instead defaulting to the usual complaining.

If it wasn't for the clear affection with which his boyfriend said his name during said complaints, Perry would almost think his nemesis genuinely despised him.

Slowly, maintaining eye contact as he did so, Heinz reached for the bright red button behind him.

Perry's eyes narrowed further.

The button could do anything, he knew. And he took responsibility for none of it. Anything Heinz did to himself as a result of his so-called genius ideas was his own stupid fault.

With the usual manic grin, Heinz slapped his hand at the button. And promptly drenched himself in a self-contained indoor rainshower.

Perry snorted, allowing himself a smile while his nemesis screeched in indignation. Served him right.

* * *

**Speedbump**

Heinz dozed in a warm patch of mid-morning sunlight on the floor, in a pose Perry did _not_ , in fact, recognise as the "draw me like one of your French girls" pose, mostly because there was no Titanic movie for him to have seen.

(If there had been, he would have seen it already. Repeatedly. And cried his little platypus heart out every time.)

No, what he _did_ think, upon seeing his nemesis, was _tripping hazard_.

Rolling his eyes, he moved on, putting Heinz's latest ridiculousness out of his mind. It wasn't even the weirdest thing his boyfriend had done _that day_ , and, unlike his schemes, it wasn't like anyone could be hurt by it. Except maybe the man's spine, because sleeping like that could _not_ be comfortable.

That assumption was proved false a few minutes later as he, naturally, tripped over Heinz's long legs.

"Have a nice _trip_ , Perry the Platypus?" his nemesis asked, a laugh in his voice, as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Next time, pay for the ticket."

Growling under his breath, Perry climbed back to his feet. This growl, had he been able to wrap his bill around the words, would have been a swear. But he couldn't, so it wasn't.

What he _could_ do was wrap his _paw_ into a _fist_ to punch his boyfriend's shoulder with. So he did.

Then, before Heinz could work himself up to full rant, Perry wriggled into the man's sun-warmed arms, nudging his bill against his boyfriend's large chin. He could afford to spare a few minutes for a catnap with his favourite ocelot.

Which, of course, meant he'd wake up hours later, tucked into an actual bed, with the dim light of dusk barely lighting up Heinz's spare room.

* * *

**When all else fails, their name**

"Come on, Perry the Platypus," Heinz whined, grabbing at the mixing bowl in Perry's paws. "I just want to taste-test it. Make sure you did it right, you know?"

Perry, used to his nemesis's impatient demands, turned, blocking the man's reaching hands. Taste-test, his furry teal rump. If he let his boyfriend get his grubby hands on it, he'd never see the bowl again, not until it'd been thoroughly licked clean.

Besides, it wasn't long after dinner. Surely the man didn't have a second stomach set aside just for almond brittle, _surely_.

Tapping Perry's shoulder, his boyfriend pointed to the fridge in the corner of the kitchen. "Look, a distraction!" Then, while Perry was distracted, he slid the bowl out of his paws and absconded.

And the chase was on.

His nemesis ran through the apartment, laughing as he held his prize aloft, with Perry hot on his heels. This was what they both lived for.

"Can't catch me!" he called over his shoulder, and ran into a door.

Perry sauntered up to where his nemesis lay flat on his back, raising one eyebrow.

_Heinz._ his expression said, punctuation and all.

The man in question was not deterred in the slightest, sticking a hand in the bowl, then shoving a handful of the mix into his mouth.

All he got for that was an eyeroll, which _clearly_ meant-

"Perry the Platypus! Such _language_! Do you kiss your-"

Perry took Heinz's head between his paws and pressed his bill to the man's lips. Yes, yes he _did_ kiss his boyfriend with this mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was... originally gonna be a standalone, but then I decided to adapt it to fit Pretending. Take advantage of the preexisting "cat" framing and all that. Still don't have a plan for where to go next, but hey, at least we can see where Perry's at in all of this.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not saying it's a coping mechanism for dysphoria, but I'm not _not_ saying it.
> 
> Title (and chapter titles) comes from [Easier To Run](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3RiDJ8_3Lo) by Linkin Park.
> 
>  ~~I'mma try to update once a month; a nice balance between "pre-write everything" and "whoops eight month hiatus".~~  
>  Well. I'm not taking eight months per chapter, at least. But one per month was overambitious.
> 
> As always, Perryshmirtz Discord is [right over here](https://discord.gg/eEhRMq3).


End file.
